AFTER
by JustLikeAir
Summary: And on that day, five angels fell from the sky. They hung beautifully from the bridge, crowned in black gold jewelry. And it was on that day, that the clear blue sky rained ruby red. [ᗩᑌ]
1. Prologue

**This is a work of fiction.**

 **Names, characters, events, and places are imaginative and used fictitiously.** **Any similarities to actual events, businesses or people (living or dead) are purely coincidental.**

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 _And on that night, five angels fell from the sky. They were hung from the bridge in crowned black gold jewelry. The sky poured red, it's haze darkening the skies. Crimson rain blessed the rivers as the angels' grace escaped cold finger tips._

 _They still had much life in them._

 _They had so many plans for their futures._

 _How unfortunate._

 _The angels – they fell from the sky… and hung beautifully from the bridge like a never-ending carousel._

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 **• ← • The Angel's Remorse • → •**

《 _S1E00.1_ 》

 _'Prologue'_

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 **← ❤ • ❤ • ❤ →**

Mark 13:25 " **And the stars** _ **will be falling from heaven**_ , and the powers that are in the heavens will be _shaken_."

 **← ❤ • ❤ • ❤ →**

His face became ice cold as a slender figure loomed over him. While her emotions piled into him, his body lay in restless agony. _Wake up!_ She licked her lips with delight - relishing in his strong aura. Strains of stringy blonde hair pooled to the ground as she twisted her neck to gaze upon his features. Her stretched hands longed to reach his face as life's breath still breathe through him - and with the gust of mixed emotions, his eyes were forced open. The water subsided.

Cold sweat.

She was gone. Clothes so filled with smut and sweat garnished his body in a room smelling foul of Sulphur and cheap perfume. His head shook with the rumbling north of him, his body too sore to properly move. His neck craned towards the distraction with anxiety lounged in his throat. Soreness. That was the second thing he felt.

"What the-" He started, trying to shift his weight onto his unwilling legs. But they failed – not once, but twice; his knees being too weak to handle the strain. Control wasn't his – as if stuck in a horrible daydream.

His name was Brick and his eyes scanned what little of the room it could manage - the darkness suffocating him in more ways than one. With a small cough, his gaze took left, then right, studying the unlit room. The sound of his internal tremors taunted him as he smelt the cryptically familiar sly mix of blood, sweat and sea water.

 _He wasn't supposed to be there._

The light which creaked through the ceiling dimmed synchronically with the return of the odd chill. The eerie feeling of being watched became stitched on his soul as fear paralyzed him. Shades of blue and gray made its way to his eyes with subtle tints of red and green to allure him. His memory failing him time after time. He remained tight-lipped as his eyes took its dear time to adjust; the resultant view nothing short of a catastrophe.

Amongst the debris of what appeared to be a hoarder's stash, he found a familiar face lying unconscious on the floor. Her expression showing mass discomfort as her torso seemed caught in between broken wood. His first instinct was to save himself, and probably go rush for help but seeing her in such agony had compelled him to aide her.

He stirred - a shot of pain surged through his arm as he struggled to remove the broken door frame from his body. His leg, a limp and mangled mess collapsed as he was brought back down to the floor with a large clank- his hands now bleeding from the impact with broken glass.

He couldn't see the shards in the dark setting, only a haze of red greeted him as liquid strained through his fingers. With doubled pain, he bit his lips and rolled into a ball- hissing until everything went numb. His hands leaked vitreous fluids with blissful ease and he squeezed until his whiten knuckles burned through the darkness.

The girl stirred. Green eyes – too bright for this darkness - shot open and closed in an instant; her migraine getting the best of her as she released a harsh groan. There were other too- not that he'd know. He was too wrapped up in himself to take things into consideration. In the haze of clutter and untampered darkness, the slender figure stood – mouth unstitched – with a lust for life. Her moans silent as she watched with hunger. Brick moved slow and careful and he dragged along the floor. His knees, still being far too weak to stand, had him attached to the ground.

His thoughts became grave.

What if I die here?

Will I die here?

Will she?

She lost her consciousness again and the hitch in her breathing became silent. It grew cold and the feeling of unease consumed him. Fear; a phenomenon he surely wasn't used to. His bleeding palms dug onto to floor tearing further the wound. The result staining the ground a vivid currant red.

"Shit!" With swallowed pain, he licked it, taking a second once over of his position. Air whooshed over him as the unnatural gust rustled through. The sound of shuffling objects flooded the air as the image of a bridge now clouded his mind.

 _We_

 _All_

 _Fall_

 _ **Down**_ _!_

The sky- he remembered how blue it was – and the peculiarity of red rain. He remembered the smell of sea water – and with that, dryness clenched his throat. He remembered it all – and he forgot it in an instant.

Buttercup!

He dragged himself towards her, exhaling when he reached without incident. She lay still amidst the rubble – the whole site broke him.

"Where-" _am I?_ he pondered, stretching his body into seating. Her face was still warm. Her skin was still soft. Her chest still heaved. _She was still alive!_

A tear drop stained her cheeks as the boy smiled in relief. His body craned over hers as he guided her face to his lap. His hands raked through her hair, the smell of dust and formaldehyde filtered through the air. He paused to laugh - a hearty one filled with delirium and luster. He let the decibels increase- not caring who could hear him; not caring if anyone could see him.

He lost it. Insanity grappling his chest. His eyes were crazed… heavily dilated and paranoid – as was he. He laughed into tears, keeping the girl's head on his lap – vision blurred with mist. His senses were on alert and once more, anxiety weaved its ugly head.

He looked up.

Eyes widened at the ceiling – hollow eyes staring back at his. Long blond hair defied gravity, flooding the ceiling with stringy unpleasantries. The girl watched him.

Unmoving.

Unwavering.

 _And a wretched smile_.

"The-" he rubbed his eyes, refusing to believe the truth, shaking away the ghastly thoughts his insanity had brought him.

He was going insane…

Dried blood touched his face a bit stinging his eye corners. He was unsure. This wasn't funny anymore. This wasn't logical anymore this was…

 _Cold._

 _Drowning._

 _Choking._

 _Falling._

 _He fell._

"- dream dammit! It's jus' a-" _dream._ His cheeks burned as too his palms. The reddened skin swelled on impact. He was losing it, hallucinating, fatigue, cold chills… it was all too real. He felt the sky fall and he felt the ground knock – he experienced _everything_ , everything surreal. His chest heaved through the panic attack with his face buried in the girl's chest. _He felt dirty. He felt released._

"Buttercup!" he cried, liquid streaming out his nose, "Wake up Buttercup!" His throat unusually sore with his lament. The circumference of it throbbed unnaturally, his head shaded with false memories.

 _Blue skies._

 _The bridge._

 _The angels were falling._

He was… the brave one. He wasn't a man of tears- he was a man of action. This… this wasn't Brick. This was a shell of the former, this was… _weakness_. He wasn't raised like this. He was raised to stand up to adversity. He was raised to be the best – to knock down all that came in his way. He was born to fight. He was… his hands quivered over the girl, brows stitched together in a trough.

"Butter.." he mourned, his back lounged over the girl. A blown off face stared back at him, haunting him, mocking him. His eyes looked up in horror, and just like before, the aberration disappeared in an instant.

Buttercup was rolled to the ground, her head being the first to hit the floor. Brick's leg curled away from her, distraught sweeping over his face with haste. He laughed, this time more maniacal than before. Eyes wide open in mock terror as he slowly accepted his truth.

"I'm fucking insane." He bemoaned, looking everywhere but her. "What the fuck is this?"

 _Laugh through the pain_ \- that's what he told himself, holding his head in pity of the shit storm his life became. Karma? Reparations? "What the fuck is –"

Lime green eyes stared blankly at him, her scowl growing nastier by the second. He smiled uncharacteristically at her, crimson eyes boring wildly into hers. His face sored at his lip creases, the tight pull of the muscles spoiling his natural features.

"Bubbles?" Buttercup yelled, realization seeping through her veins. She forced her body up, stretching her head for a better view. "Bubble-"

"Shhh!" He warned, rolling his hair into a knotted bun. The smile still placed wickedly on his face.

She rolled her eyes with pursed lips, folding her arms with formality. "Don't tell me what to –"

"Shhh!" He interrupted, grimacing in the most fucking terrifying way.

She grunted at this, remaining as ignorant as ever. "You look like shit, Bellum"

"Do you remember anything?"

"I _remember_ Bubbles." Her tone as nasty as ever.

His eyes couldn't directly reach her face- not yet. The image of her bleeding face burnt his memory. He wasn't thinking logically. He wasn't the Brick Bellum everyone was accustomed to. He had to… wake up.

"-Hear that?" She asked, green eyes filtering through the abyss.

He grunted, closing his eyes to focus his ears. Behind the resonant high pitch, a soft groan echoed. Their eyes tilted upwards towards the darkness, the soft groans medially continued through the squeaking.

The corpse-like structure shuffled.

Cobalt eyes squeezed shut with pain, and in his hand, nothing but a crinkled blood-stained cap.

" _You're here because you wanted to stay."_

 **← ❤ • ❤ • ❤ →**


	2. Reckoning

It shouldn't have ended like this. Not in this cold, dark and empty room. He deserved much more than that, _they_ … deserved much more than that. The morning began the same as always… well at least for one lad. There wasn't any talk of the angels, or how they fell. In fact, there wasn't even a whisper as to whether they existed or not.

In the dark of an abyss, alongside the debris and the apparent spectra which existed, his body lay motionlessly, his mind… _no_ … not his mind – **his consciousness** could only focus on one thing; yellowish-green. The same yellowish-green which always seemed to be on the verge of tears… the same yellowish-green which always seemed to whisper the words, " _It's all your fault…"_

But those tears were never in sadness, and those words were never in hatred. Both were simply tied in union of regret and contempt. This was the sight Butch was forced to wake up to every morning; _was_ … past tense. Even in his subconscious, he experienced the aroma of cigars and cheap whiskey. He could feel the brush of the wind as it made the white blindfolds dance in the air through the open kitchen window. The woman's feet would always move along to the rhythm of an old vinyl record, and he'd get his keys ready to hop in his truck and get his ass to school, forgetting the perfectly aligned bottles near the kitchen table or the way her lit cigar always swayed too close to those chiffon curtains of hers.

Elvis was mad. A stained mason jar fell off the table and now… Butch's mind was _livid_.

It fell.

It broke.

It clinked,

It **shattered.**

 _Something's misplaced._

 _Where…am I?_

 _I don't know this smell._

 **Rust?**

 **Dirt?**

 **The ocean?**

 _Someone fell._

Butch grunted, his log of a body shifted tremendously causing the lad under him to squirm in agony. Cobalt eyes squeezed shut at that instant and all he could do was wish the sensation away. Boomer's hands had gripped firmly the blood-stained cap and... an emotion – _no_ , a sensation erupted from it.

He remembered something.

Though, _he wished he didn't_. The weight of his sins buried him, and they replayed memory of a fall… with red rain and a rushing coldness to antagonize his being. But… he wasn't sorry, and it was well deserving. In the thick of the darkness, Boomer bit his tongue until that crummy pulse of his memory flatlined into the darkness.

The next which came was a single teardrop; _red and bright_ , and it dripped down an angel's cheek; almost like the petal which fell of the poinsettia a time once forgotten. There were white poinsettias there too and he remembered staining them red with the essence of something green. In that time once forgotten, his blue eyes had never witnessed such a deadly beauty and on instinct, he smiled until his body became cold and numb.

But the time's different now, all skewered and corrupted. The bliss was no longer there. The beauty was lost in the doldrums and all he could feel was the large mass upon him. Big and blunt- the bane of his existence and he almost cursed when his hands touched ink black hair.

"Butch," He tried to say, his stomach churned with nausea. Said boy, still stuck in his own existence, could only rock his body and this caused great discomfort to Boomer.

"Get… off…" he struggled, blinking needlessly into the darkness. When he'd given up on all hope, he lay flat on his back and stared bewildered at the unhinged door which looking crestfallen at the sinkhole behind it. Light creaked through the following room, previewing a dystopic scene of what he recognized to be… well, somewhat familiar. As if he'd been here already, as if he'd known the answer to this puzzle all along.

Unlike Butch, Boomer's memories occurred in fragments, and despite knowing – _and quickly forgetting_ – how he got there, the poor lad barely knew who… _or what…_ he was supposed to be right now. The groan heard north of them snapped Boomer to this reality and the little fragments like red droplets and beautiful poinsettias were now replaced by high school memories and his keen dislike for the people who infested it.

"Butch," he groaned, shoving the lad off him, "You're fucking hea-" he tried to speak, but the speech faltered once more. In fact, his throat felt sore, and as he looked at Butch, he remembered something;

" _You're here because you wanted to stay._ "

From then on, his soul knew what it was supposed to do.

 _._

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༺✧۩ † ۩✧༻

• ← • **The** **Angel's Remorse** **•** **•**

《 _S1E02_ 》

 _'Reckoning'_

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← ❤ • ❤ • ❤ →

"There are memories that time does not erase... Forever does not make loss forgettable, only bearable." - Cassandra Clare

← ❤ • ❤ • ❤ →

"Is someone there?" Buttercup had asked, and she was quickly quieted by Brick's off-putting shushing. She crossed her arms under her chest, trying her hardest to hard-eye him through the thick of the dark. The room's odd draft brought chilling goosebumps down her spine and her only thoughts lay on finding Bubbles as soon as possible.

Nothing made sense yet. There were gaps in her time and who knew how long she… or the others had been missing.

"Are you stupid?" Brick had whispered, his hair bun weighing a bit heavily on him. "We have no fucking clue as to where we are!" She felt the breeze from the energetic movements of his hands as he motioned the words he wanted to yell. She understood very well the situation, and had she have been in good emotional stability, she would have been as quiet as usual… but… Bubbles was in trouble; she could sense it!

"Dude! Bubbles is out there, and she's probably alone so are you gonna stay there and mope or are you gonna help me look for her?" her voice desperate for the slightest sign of hope.

Brick cradled his head in pain, hissing a bit before he centered his focus. This girl… she was fucking stupid. He was tired of dealing with people so steadfast in their emotions that they couldn't assess the problem in front of them. _Not like he was any different, but no use explaining_ _ **that**_ _to him_.

"How'd you know that she's even here?" He said firmly, maneuvering himself through the debris. It may have been just his imagination, but it was getting easier for him to move… to see… as if he was getting accustomed to his surroundings already.

"How'd you know that she's not?" She countered, completely tired of his negativity/

"This is no time for games B. C."

"Don't get too comfortable Bellum, you don't get to call me B. C.! and dammit! I already told you that Bubbles' my last memory! What more do I have to prove?"

 _Actual proof?_ He thought, but the way in which both her voice and temper rose, he thought damage control was the best thing to do.

"Will you keep your voice down?" He whispered. The boy took a deep sigh before relenting, "If finding Bubbles will get you to shut the hell up then fine."

Then there came the shuffling. Actually, it had been going on for a while, something like a rat running through a crowded area, only louder.

Buttercup stiffened, then strained her eyes in the direction, putting one foot in front of the other to follow the nose. She felt her hand held back by something cold and immediately stopped. "Let me go." She warned, hoping to God it was Brick's hand.

"You are _**not**_ going towards that sound."

"The hell I'm not," she snapped her hands away, a sudden burst of life flowing through her. It was almost as all the pain and loss she felt two seconds ago were fictitious… like it didn't exist… as if this whole thing was all just a – "Let. Go."

No, not a dream; just _strange_.

 _Drugs?_

 _Could it be drugs?_

 _It had to be drugs… right?_

Brick swallowed a gasp of air as he steadied his mind for what was to come next. Him? Chicken out? Let a girl show more balls than him?

 _Ha_!

His father never raised him to be a coward!

He was Brick! A Bellum! A true pioneer and he was gonna prove that to this show-off named Buttercup.

"Follow me." He said in the coolest voice he could muster. It could be the rasp in his voice or the severity of the situation, but Buttercup's entirety felt at ease with those two words.

She complied, pinching the back of his shirt as she slowly followed his lead. One foot before the other, they slowly walked through the darkness until they had found any signs of Bubbles.

Brick's body quaked with fear as he neared the light rumbling. His heart still handed been calmed since the appearance of the… was that even real? Buttercup hadn't mentioned seeing the strange woman and God… she hadn't mentioned the sensation of being watched either. In fact, the girl's face showed not an ounce of fear; just determination.

The staring intensified, and Brick chest enclosed. He stopped immediately as a figure loomed before him causing Buttercup to walk straight into his back.

"Ow," she mumbled softly, rubbing her nose delicately.

"Brick," The voice had said, "and Buttercup…. think that's the last of them."

"Boomer?" Buttercup asked, "Wait is that you?"

She moved from behind Bricks' back and squinted, he eyes noticing those intense blue eyes immediately. Next to him was another, and from his side profile and height, she immediately recognized it to be. "What do you mean last-"

"I'm so scared Buttercup," the voice came from below and with a few more adjustment to the darkness, Buttercup could make out the petite girl hugging her knees on the floor. "I was so scared."

Brick grimaced at how dark it was. He couldn't tell if the strange murmurs in the darkness were from weird aberrations, his insanity, or the rustling of the outdoor winds. In fact, where the heck was he? And was this really the time for everyone to be having such a great reunion?

He thinks not!

Buttercup crouched low to Bubbles level. She removed the girl's hands from her knees and held it in her own, squeezing them tightly.

"Bubs, don't worry. Everything's okay now, okay?" her voice, soft and calming.

Bubbles hesitantly nodded, the tears held at bay by the reassuring words.

"Okay?" Butch started, "Which part of this looks okay to you?"

His twisted frown was aimed at Buttercup and his eyes were squeezed by disbelief. His twitching had begun.

"Butch, calm down." Brick mentioned. His only thought lied on the noise level. His vision cleared now, and… they were watching… the darkness… they existed.

"Here," Boomer whispered, handing over the bloodied… wait… what? _Never mind_. "Missing something?"

Brick tentatively took the baseball cap from Boomer and placed it squarely on his head. He took it quickly, releasing his hair bun for the cap to fit properly. Boomer's eyes glowed as he watched Buttercup take her frustration out on Butch, a part of this sparking a once forgotten memory from his head and now he was thinking fresh sea water and the warmth of island sun.

Boomer smiled.

"Buttercup, that's enough. That boy's not worth your time."

"Boom should have left you crying in the dark," Butch muttered.

"Agreed." Boomer chimed in, "But I hate noise."

"You didn't seem to hate it just now when the two of them were bickering!"

"Shhh!" Brick's famous last words.

"Excuse me?" Bubbles started, her tears so long gone.

"Give it a rest Blondie," Butch complained, "Brick said what he said, and he meant it!"

"I feel as though someone else was with us."

"No," Boomer was quick to answer, then when all eyes focused on him, he shook his head feverishly, "What now?"

Brick looked up and shuffled his feet, squinting and looking at all the puzzled faces, "We go towards the light."

"Dark," Buttercup mentioned, trying to make a joke of it.

"Sounds like a shitty idea," Butch said.

"Beats staying here doesn't it?"

"I say we try to get our bearings-"

"What bearings? I can't see shit!" Buttercup mentioned.

"Get fucking glasses then."

"Where the hell would I get glasses now Butch?"

"Boom…" Brick realized something, "What do you remember?"

"What?"

"Not gonna repeat,"

"Dunno, just the last four people I was with," he said, a bit anxious from staying still. "What about you?"

"Nothing."

"Going to school," Butch confessed.

Buttercup had opened her mouth to speak, but Bubbles complaint was apparently far too pressing, "Its cold, it's dark and my parents are probably worried. If this is a sick joke-"

"It would probably be Mitch," Buttercup sighed, then added in, "But I also know he's not smart enough for something like this… this… is elaborate."

"I think I'd know if some huge prank was going on in school."

Brick thought for a bit, much to Boomer's dismay. The blonde boy needed someone to steer the conversation away from idleness and towards some sort of plan. It was almost as if they weren't taking this seriously. _They were running out of time._

Time?

 _There's something wrong with this timeline_. Boomer had realized it before, but he didn't pay too close attention to it. _Maybe because he didn't realize it needed attention in the first place_.

"Butch, if Mitch could out-prank you, then you're dethroned."

Boomer coughed, thinking hard about what he remembered. Tears, staining and someone had fallen. Three fragments which didn't make sense. Then in his mind, he heard a loud disruption following by screaming… but there wasn't a vivid memory in sight, just unfiltered noise. _What?_

"This still doesn't make any sense. Besides you jerk, Bubbles is the only one I talk to. I should even be in here with you people."

"You're not much to talk to either babe," Butch said acidly, going as far as accepting a fist bump from Brick after his 'nice one' retort, and yes, Buttercup was visibly annoyed.

A soft lull harmonized in the room. So soft, it could be drowned out by a distant buzzing mosquito.

"Guys…" Bubbles tried to say, the egoist conversation taking place drowning her warnings.

"Oh, bite me you two! You know I'm getting sick and tired of getting dragged into your issues!"

"Dragged?" Butch asked and at the same time Brick offendedly clarified, "Issues?"

"Butch." Buttercup spared no feeling when she was pissed off, even in the slightest. 'Deflecting' her parents called it, but she knew better. It was called the 'stone-cold truth.'

"You think your pranks are oh-so-funny, but it's not funny to the people who experience them."

"Guys!" Bubbles hissed a bit louder, but they were too immersed in their own conversation. Meanwhile, Boomer's head went into overdrive as he tried to regain the memories he had willed to leave a few minutes ago.

"True," Brick reasonably nodded, immediately removing himself from the picture.

"Oh, don't let me get started on you kid-of-the-Bellums."

"Wow! An attack on my family's name? How original. Gonna call me entitled?"

"Amongst other things."

"Like?"

"A hypocrite."

"Agreed" Butch smiled, lifting a high five, and left hanging by Buttercup.

Brick folded his arms and lifted a brow, squinting with disappointment at Butch.

"Seriously… Guys!" Bubbles shouted, "GUYS!"

" **What**?" The three shouted while Boomer's mind seemed to be stuck in a trance. He'd have been lying if he'd said everything was still okay. At this moment, his life resembled a blurred haze… like a broken memory capsule.

The focus was now on Bubbles, and they were filled with all their fears and heart's insecurities,

"You hear that? Sounds like music"

.

.

.

Satin gloves were removed from peach-tinted, well-pampered fingers. The sound of a bell tower reverberated through the main room and its echoes seeped through the darkness of the cellar. She took her last sip and placed the teacup down. It barely clinked on fine china and she wiped the sides of her mouth with a cloth napkin in sweet celebration.

 _It was time_ , right?

Circumstances had changed. She hadn't prepared for this situation. She had been waiting a long while for this moment, but she hadn't expected it to be quite this complicated; _but she was still prepared_. Her feet unfolded as she rose with grace, studying the moving hands of the numeral-less grandfather clock. Her footsteps were soft and slow down the narrow hallway – the incoming darkness bringing her nothing but promise and potential.

Red hair spooled neatly to the curve of her back, a back way to exposed for her liking. She heard the darkness call her name, the state of unrest sending goosebumps along her arm. _They were ready_ , right? _It was time_ , right?

They should be, because ready or not, here she came.

The floorboards creaked. The smell of sulphur became fresh in the air and with a certified sigh, she flickered on light to see what was next to occur.

 _Now or never kiddos_.

The intensity of the light increased, and Brick felt a swelling relief enter him. This was the moment he was waiting for. He could feel it. His inner demons felt pushed aside and all the fear he forced away, no longer anchored his stride.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm not – " he started

"I think it's time." Boomer interrupted, still dazed as he walked along the straight path. Bubbles rose from the ground, dusting off herself before following obediently. She felt it too, the swelling calm, and whatever this was… this call… it was certainly better than staying in this dread, with the strange noises which brought weird conclusions to enter her head.

Butch looked at Buttercup as if waiting for someone else to protest because frankly… he was scared. A part of him understood what was happening, as if a forgotten his past was holding him back from the truth.

He felt jealousy when watching the others move with such conviction… as if he'd miss the manual somehow. He didn't want to leave. He'd rather stay here and be lost but… "Butch" Buttercup squeezed his index finger, "Let's go. What are you waiting for?"

… leave no man behind

"Ladies first." He placed his hand free hand in front of hers, making sure he didn't give her the idea to retract hers from his because she was his tether from becoming stuck in this bad place he was.

Buttercup turned around to give Butch a reassuring smile. He felt heavy. And it wasn't by weight, it was as if something tried to tie him down to this place. She couldn't see it… they couldn't see it, the spectra which had wrapped itself around the boy. She squeezed his hand tighter, taking his hand into hers wholly as they made a run for the door which was now opened.

Dread was nearing, and they all felt it. Butch yelled out in pain, a vile song being hummed into his head. A hand of grace stretched out the door and towards Butch to pulled him in. He fell to the ground, releasing Buttercup's hand with fatigue and the door was quickly shut behind them.

There was banging, and worry came to the five straight after.

"What was that?" Bubbles asked, "What was that?"

Brick chewed nervously on his tongue as the image of the hallowed eyed blonde came to mind again…. _Was that real? Were they really in danger?_

"You've made it," The girl said, her hand clutching a stainless stopwatch, she ignored the previous questions, and barely gave the teens a proper glance. "Any second later and you'd catch that bad wave."

"Excuse me?" Bubbles asked, a bit confused. _What just happened, who was this girl and where on earth were they?_

"Where-"

The girl cleared her throat. "I suppose I'll start with my name,"

Brick, hating the fact that he was so rudely cut off had to give the inert of, "I suppose you should."

"My name's Blossom and I'd like to welcome the five of you," she paused, looking at the confused blonde girl first, " _Bubbles_ , _Buttercup, Boomer, Butch_ and lastly _Brick_ , to what most describe as ' _the place most haunted'_."

There were silence and stillness. The clock rang again, and the banging had stopped. Boomer's consciousness had fully returned, and he looked around with curiosity. Butch, on the other hand, was extremely cautious… this girl… when she touched him, his whole body felt a spark and memories of a forgotten time had flowed through him.

"Who put you up to this?" Brick's voice was low, "Are there cameras here? Were we drugged? How are you doing this?"

Blossom smiled and shook her head lightly as if to say he was wrong. His glare did nothing to her and neither did Buttercup's, but the girls' next few words did have a minuscule effect on her.

"I remember you from somewhere…"

Silence met them once more, this time, the music which Bubbles had heard became clearer. "You should follow me," Blossom said, acting as if she hadn't heard a thing Buttercup said. "Or you could go back there. Your choice."

"Where are were?" Brick's tone somber and stern.

His headache was slowly disappearing, his sense of perception slowly returning, and he firmly believed that the effects of whatever chemical they used were wearing off from him. In fact, he was sticking to his new theory of a horror prank show and he wasn't about to give those corporate jerks the material they were looking for.

 _Over his_ _ **dead**_ _body._

He began calculating the risks. Sure, the well-groomed red-head before them looked a hidden danger, but she was still small, around his age, and heavily outnumbered. She tried something, they still had a chance. He wasn't about to fall for their mind games. Not anymore.

Brick Bellum wasn't going to break anymore.

"I said **where are we dammit**?" He shouted, a yell which caught the others off-guard and made them shiver.

But Blossom barely flinch. With a smile which said, 'is this the best you 've got?' she shook her head and replied, "I already told you."

"I need a name, Blossom." He said in a taunting voice, one which made her face darken with a foreboding sneer.

"Brick Bellum," She started, and he realized something dire. "Welcome to the place most haunted; _The house of reckoning_."

.

.

.

 _None of them had given her their names._

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 **The author** ** _prohibits_** **any re-publication - whether it be by** **duplication,** **translation or adaption- of this story without permission.**


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